A Wealthy Man's Experience: A Penny for Acceptance
by WolfieStar
Summary: Kiku has never been treated the same as other people because of his prosthetic leg and him having very little money. Though, he never expected the rich, pretty boy coworker Yao to be the first to treat Kiku like everyone else, literally. AU China/Japan
1. Chapter 1

The hustle and bustle of the city was a familiar sight. Running around and scurrying back and forth like ants, though at times it was comparable to herded cattle, having to be forced to move with the others around you. Car horns and sirens formed a deafening symphony in the citizens of New York City's ears. Lights lit up the streets and buildings, whether it was advertisements, or merely the street lights. This was home to many people, the fast paced life of the city.

Or, it was the hard and unforgiving life of a certain male, struggling to survive.

Kiku Honda sighed loudly, resting his chin on the backs of his hands, staring at the people passing by. The smell of newspapers and ink was strong, clogging his nose uncomfortably. Sweat beaded down his brow, the sun basically smacking him with its waves of heat. His clothes sticking to him, he felt disgusting. A hot summer's day in the middle of a stuffy city…not the best day to be working, the man thought sourly.

Kiku yawned lazily, standing up straight and pulling the t-shirt away from his damp skin, trying to at least get some air circulating to that part of his body. A newspaper salesman on the side of the street in the busiest city in America was not his ideal job. Of course, at the moment this foul paying job was all he could get. Though the crabby man who bossed him around while he was out all day was not a very good incentive to stay at this horrible job, but as Kiku kept thinking, there weren't many reasons to stay in the first place.

A soft sneeze erupted from his nose, the fumes that came with the city life was suffocating. Sniffling feebly, he attempted to rub his red and puffy eyes, though that did nothing to sooth them, if at all it caused more irritation. It did not help too much to possess an allergy to newspaper ink.

Groaning with distaste, Kiku looked up at the sky. Of course it was clouded from the smog and smoke that the factories and unsanitary skyscrapers coughed out on a daily basis, but it did give unspoken promises to the man. For he knew that the sun masked by the hazardous smoke was still present in the sky; just merely hiding it was.

Kiku's eyes drooped with exhaustion. Staring at the people passing by was not his favorite activity at all. A burning jealously exploded in his chest, realizing that all those people had somewhere to go. Places to be. People to meet. Appointments to attend to.

And Kiku himself?

A mere college drop out to watch over the newspaper stand while the boss is away. Not cared or worried over. Nothing to do. Nothing to look forward to. Of course, the poverty ridden Kiku had nothing at all. No home, a crappy job, no family…

Well, Kiku mused absentmindedly, some of his family may still be in Japan. Though they likely didn't care about him if he was still trying to make ends meet and no assistance from them; that thought made anger bubbling upside him, threatening to overflow like a volcano.

Kiku was snapped awake from his erratic thoughts by a person tapping his shoulder. He blinked and stood up straight, looking at the impatient man already fishing in his pocket for the appropriate amount of money for his purchase.

"Finally you're paying bloody attention." The messy haired, green eyed blonde grumbled with a cranky tone, dropping a few coins on the table of the stand. Kiku blinked drowsily at the coins, and then looked back to the man.

"…what do you want?" Kiku yawned and stretched slightly. Grunting angrily, the man grabbed the paper roughly from the stand and showed it to Kiku. Kiku gave a small nod approving of the purchase, taking the coins from the table. The man gave one small nod as a fair well, slipping the paper under his arm as he walked briskly away.

Kiku sighed again, pursing his lips. What was he making of his life? A mere newspaper salesman…a boring and worthless job in his mind…

"Kiku!"

Kiku jumped slightly, looking up at his boss. When had he got here? It didn't matter, Kiku realized. Just be nice to the man who pays you. He forced a smile, greeting the taller male.

"Yes Mr. Juan?"

Grunting, the heavyset, tanned male glared down at his employee, the cigar he was smoking making a smoke cloud around them. Obviously he was not in a good mood, evident by the stress lines marring his face.

"How many times have you fallen asleep on the job?" Juan narrowed his eyes at the smaller boy. Even the other conversations going on around them thanks to the busy city did not do anything to help for a distraction for Kiku to get some pressure off that he was currently experiencing. "Or completely deep in thought and completely oblivious to everything around you?"

Kiku could not hide the flinch this time, looking up at Juan with slight fear present. "…I am sorry Mr. Juan. I will pay attention ne—"

"There won't be a next time." Juan grunted and crossed his arms across his chest, continuing to inhale the smoke from the cigar deeply, as if it were his lifeline. "I'm letting you go Kiku."

"…you're…firing me?" Kiku sputtered out as if it were a foreign object, desperate to get rid of such a taste that was present on his tongue.

Juan merely grunted at the young male. "There are people who will actually do their job instead of doing whatever the hell you do!"

"I need this job though! I n- need the money!"

"You can get another job." Juan narrowed his eyes, nudging Kiku away. "Go on, get."

Kiku blinked in complete surprise, feeling incredibly crushed and disappointed. Aware of the horrible economy engulfing the country, he knew how terribly difficult it would be to find a new job, and he was now desperate to keep this one, even though he wouldn't rather have this job. The factor of money was always a major thing.

"Please! You cannot fire me! I'll do better! I will!" Kiku begged, completely humiliated with himself to go down to the level of begging. How embarrassing, he thought.

"Get out! You're not getting this job back!" Juan growled, narrowing his eyes at the smaller male. Kiku could not help but flinch at the threatening male, beginning to back away.

"…yes Juan…" Kiku murmured quietly. "…I understand…" he slowly began to walk away from the newspaper stand, being bumped and jostled around by the civilians of the city. He glared at his former boss with a surprising hatred, turning away and slowly beginning to fight the crowds, desperate to walk off his anger. The sun reflected on the metal of the prosthetic on his right leg, making people pause and stare at him.

Staring was such a horrible habit, was it not?


	2. Chapter 2

Kiku hadn't expected that his legs were going to take him to one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. After losing his job, the man had begun to wander the city in an attempt to cool down. It hadn't helped at all, being jostled around as the other citizens of the city had rushed right past him, somewhere to go, appointments to meet. And where was Kiku? A worthless soul in the largest city in the country was what he merely was.

Kiku thought back to the restaurant he was now standing in front of. He had only heard of this dining experience through occasionally reading the papers he had just recently sold. A very good restaurant it apparently was, the Golden Wok. Five star reviews, highly recommended to anyone visiting the city…those things of the sort. In other words, it was too far out of his reach to just eat there when he felt like it.

Stomach grumbling and alerting him to hunger, Kiku blinked, looking at the front doors of the restaurant. Biting his lip, he fished in his pocket for his wallet, which was unfortunately very skinny looking. Avoiding the stares people gave him as they looked at his prosthetic leg, completely visible to the world (why did he decide to wear shorts today?), he began to slowly count his money.

Twenty two dollars and fifty three cents. A whole twenty two dollars and fifty three cents. That was all the money Kiku had to his name. Only a meal's worth of money was all he had. Yet, the poverty-stricken man couldn't eat another meal of just something from the soup kitchen…

Sighing loudly, Kiku slowly pushed open the doors of the restaurant, immediately slammed with the delicious aromas that existed in Chinese and Japanese restaurants such as this one. Sniffing curiously, he found his mouth beginning to salivate almost right away, the smell of the food almost intoxicating to the poor man.

Blinking, Kiku looked around the restaurant, taking in the entire atmosphere and experience. The restaurant truly was beautiful, like how the reviews and critics had said. Beautiful and stunning ancient Chinese and Japanese murals were on the walls of the building, truly something pretty to look at whilst you were eating. The tables were covered with a red tablecloth, a golden pattern onto it. Waiters and waitresses were dressed in fancy and traditional Asian clothing, which provided a nice international and oriental atmosphere.

Kiku's mouth was agape, beyond surprised at the true beauty of the restaurant. This was…much fancier than what he was used to. By a long shot. Swallowing, Kiku slowly walked forward, noticing that the restaurant was nearly empty. Hmm, that was good. It would be awkward, considering that he had decided to wear shorts. It always was weird when people began to stare at his prosthetic leg.

"Sir?'

Kiku startled, looking towards the woman looking at him oddly. She had long brown hair in a ponytail that went down past her waist, her bangs framing her face perfectly. Wearing the traditional Asian attire, she looked at Kiku, holding a thick looking menu and frowning slightly.

"Would you like to be seated?" she asked a bit impatiently

"…uh…yes." Kiku said quickly, looking a bit embarrassed.

"One?"

"…one what?"

The waitress stared at him for a long time, then groaned softly, rubbing her temples. "…never mind…just follow me and I'll seat you somewhere…" she looked at him with a weird expression, making Kiku grow uncomfortable. Rolling her eyes, she led the male to a table nearby, putting the menu down in front of the nearest chair. Kiku awkwardly gave her a small nod of appreciation, who merely walked away, very annoyed looking. Sighing, the man sat down at the chair, finding it very comfortable actually…

Shaking his head, he opened the menu, quietly reading over all of the choices, his mouth watering just as he viewed the delicious meals. All were so very expensive…it caused him to get a migraine just thinking about how he would have basically no money left…

Swallowing, he pushed it away, looking over the menu again. Hmm…this sounded good…oh…! And so did this one…everything just seemed so wonderful...

Kiku blinked suddenly, looking towards the counter where bills were often paid, or take-out orders given to customers. There was much noise going on back there, much conversations going on between workers.

"…work is getting too hard on us." A younger male groaned, shaking his head, brushing his choppy black hair out of his face, having very large brows. How unusual looking…

"It's because there's no bus boys or anything Xiang." Another male, this one having very spiky dark brown hair, sighed loudly. "Everyone's coming here to work as chefs or something really top of the line, no one's willing to do the little man jobs."

"Oh please Aran, like you came here just to work as a stupid bus boy." The same woman who seated him sneered in a sarcastic tone, crossing her arms. Xiang and Aran looked oddly at her. "You came here to work top of the line too! We all did, admit it. We're not accustomed to, as you say, 'little man jobs.'"

"You PMSing or something Linh?" Xiang snorted, causing Aran to chuckle and Linh to fume angrily. Xiang smirked, and then continued, "no one's willing to work as a simple bus boy in a fancy restaurant like this. What's would be the impression really? Not that good."

Linh crossed her arms and turned away from her coworkers, too aggravated to continue to converse with them. Aran and Xiang smirked and laughed slightly at her, watching as she stormed away from them angrily, and to Kiku's surprise, she was heading towards him.

"Hey." Linh grunted, taking out her order book. "What'd you like to order sir?" it was obviously a forced cheery mood, an attempt to mask the female's fuming and hostile emotions taken over.

Kiku paused, looking back down at the menu. His hunger now somehow gone, he began wondering and contemplating if the decision he was about to make would be a good and wise one. Well, he had nothing to lose, literally. Was the chance he was about to take a dangerous and risky one? Possibly, this was the fanciest place he had ever been to. Literally.

Swallowing, Kiku looked up right at Linh. "I would…I would like to work as your bus boy."

* * *

><p><strong>Linh: Vietnam<strong>

**Xiang: Hong Kong**

**Aran: Thailand.**

**Yao'll show up in the next chapter, don't worry lol.**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Kiku felt like an animal after being introduced to its new owner at its new habitat and environment. A struggle to get used to normal routine for everyone else, yet such a foreign schedule to Kiku. Unsure of what to do, wondering if what he was doing was being done correctly or completely wrong. All of this made Kiku's head spin. He couldn't even remember the names of his coworkers…

Yet, even though this awkward stage was difficult to get through, he was still completely awestruck by the atmosphere of working at one of the fanciest restaurants in the world. The food was absolutely beautiful (not to mention the fact that he was able to take home the leftover food every day. What a nice treat that was, to eat free gourmet food), and Kiku felt like it was an honor for a poor, one legged man to be working in such an eatery.

Of course, no one except his boss was aware of his handicap. Even in the brutal heat of the summer, Kiku had worn long pants to completely cover his prosthetic leg, and so far, it was working beautifully. No one had even suspected a thing, which was good on Kiku's part. At least everyone would hopefully treat him the same and not some sort of cripple.

Though, the man was only a mere bus boy, which apparently meant that everyone had a right to disrespect him. That's what happened being on the lowest part of the food chain. It seemed everyone teased him whenever he didn't clean up a spill fast enough, or when he took care of the wrong table. Things that could usually be easily overlooked. Usually.

Kiku was still grateful, being able to get a job in the first place. Living in a shelter, dirt poor... yet here he was, working in a five star restaurant. Truly he felt that this was a gift, and maybe now he won't have to live in a shelter anymore. Maybe.

Even with the constant teasing and lack of respect, there was of course one employee that caught his eye. It was somewhat embarrassing, really. It just wasn't normal for a man to be sexually attracted to another male.

Kiku wouldn't admit that he 'maybe' had a crush on the head chef, Yao Wang. His father was the one who owned the restaurant, automatically giving off the impression of someone rich to the workers, mainly the poverty-stricken bus boy. His title as 'son of the owner' was backed up by his culinary skills in the kitchen was comparable to that of a chef on Food Network. The way he moved around the kitchen and how he cooked the most beautiful looking dishes in the restaurant made Kiku become awestruck.

Of course, this attraction had not showed up after merely one work day. It had taken a few weeks after Kiku had grown adjusted to this workday schedule. Now, with a blush, he realized, he admired the slightly older male's movements, how he walked with such grace, the way his bangs framed his porcelain face, his ponytail falling perfectly down his back and between his shoulder blades, beautiful golden eyes glittering when—

"Hey, bus boy aru."

Kiku blinked, snapping out of his day dream, a bucket and a mop roughly shoved in his arms. He looked up, only to find Yao staring down at him with narrowed eyes. Though the height difference between them wasn't all that noticeable, it was still there, making Kiku feel as if he were about to be attacked.

"Stop staring off into space and start doing your damn job aru." Yao spat, flicking his head towards the main dining hall, which of course, was Kiku's job to clean and prepare for the day. "I don't have all day, and neither do the people waiting to eat _my_ food aru."

So Yao's people skills weren't as great as his cooking skills, even the most wonderful angel had its flaws. Kiku nearly wanted to smack himself. What the hell was he thinking? It must have been the stress and pain he was experiencing. His stub of a leg – currently covered by the prosthetic and his long, stuffy pants – had been irritating him as of last night, making it painful to use the prosthetic. Thus, making it difficult to do his job, as Yao had asked so _nicely_.

Yet, Kiku merely swallowed his pain and gave a stiff nod to Yao. "…of course. I was just about to get right on it." He murmured politely, trying not to make it sound forced. If only Yao was actually nice, then maybe Kiku would have a full on attraction to him…

Yao snorted and gave a brisk nod. "Good. Get to it. We don't have all day for you to waste time just standing there aru." Without even waiting for Kiku to open his mouth and reply, he was already walking away to go prepare the kitchen.

Kiku sighed loudly, running his fingers through his hair. He hated being fully gay, he just hated it. It made him seem so, foreign to straight guys. At least, in his mind he thought so. He did not know any other gay men, thus causing an odd disturbance in his mind. Was he normal? Obviously that was shot down as no, he realized with another sigh.

Holding the bucket and the mop awkwardly in his arms, he limped towards where Yao had directed him to to clean. He didn't exactly_ love_ his job, but it was a job all in its own. And that was enough to come to work with a smile on his face.

As Kiku had begun to mop down the dining hall that Yao had so kindly asked to be cleaned, he heard yelling coming from the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, quite a normal occurrence for Yao to yell at his colleagues in the morning before opening. He could only guess what it was about this time.

Kiku continued to mop down the floor and set the tables silently, the only things heard was the normal chaos at this time in the kitchen. It didn't take the male long to finish up the simple task, and he found himself in his usual boredom. If Yao was finished with his rampage in the kitchen, that is.

Rubbing his thigh a bit painfully as he walked, Kiku nudged the door open, looking around the kitchen. Yao and the other chef, Yong Soo — the hyper, talkative, overactive Korean — were on opposite sides of the room, attempting to completely ignore each other. Yong Soo had an usually cranky expression worn on his face as he was cleaning the stove, while Yao was busy making soup on the other side, an equally aggravated face. Kiku blinked as he watched the two, then sighed, leaning against the counter, the air in the kitchen tense.

"...someone's here this early?" Kiku asked in an attempt to clear the awkward air, seeing how Yao was deeply engrossed in the making of his soup.

"No." Yao said stiffly, not even glancing at Kiku. "This is for my father. He forgot to eat breakfast this morning."

"...ah." Kiku gave a small nod, absentmindedly watching Yao cook. More silence occurred between the three workers, making Kiku personally a bit uncomfortable with the situation. He cleared his throat awkwardly, making Yao glance at him from the corner of his eye.

"Yao!" the boss had suddenly called from the office, breaking the silence in the kitchen. Yao groaned loudly, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before leaving his soup and beginning to walk to the office. His steps were slow and hesitant, obviously not wanting to talk to his father at this very moment. That theory was proven correct by Yao slamming the door behind him, which was a very large mistake.

Some kind of Chinese spice trembled from the vibrations of the slamming door, causing it to fall off the shelf and right in the soup, making a small splash, soup splattering on the oven. Kiku panicked slightly – knowing that the odds of being blamed for this were against him – and walked over to the pot of soup, staring down into the pot, wondering what the hell to do.

This was just like the soup kitchen, right? He _was _the one who made the soup every day before he got this job, and people liked his cooking. That meant he should be able to handle fixing gourmet soup, right? Dear god he hoped so…

Kiku took a deep breath, looking at the spices on the shelf above the stove. Pursing his lips, he grabbed a familiar looking spice as he grabbed the fallen container out of the soup. Putting it aside, he wiped his hand on his apron and sprinkled a little bit of the new spice into the soup.

It felt like he was back in the soup kitchen, grabbing multiple herbs and ingredients to throw into the soup, taste testing it many times. The soup going from horrible-tasting to simply wonderful in a short amount of time, Kiku felt like he had accomplished something with that.

Kiku had grabbed a handful of some kind of herbs to throw in the soup for the finishing touch, but froze, hearing someone's foot tapping behind him.

_Oh shit._

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Yao spat, arms crossed, foot tapping. All Kiku did was loosen his fist, allowing the herbs to be sprinkled in the soup. Yao stormed over and shoved Kiku out of the way, looking down at the soup with distaste. "You ruined my soup!"

"I was fixing it." Kiku said calmly, and it sounded correct to him at first, but then he realized what he did wrong when Yao grabbed him by his shirt collar in a very threatening manner.

"You were _fixing_ it?" Yao shrieked, his grip tightening, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted. "I am a five star chef, and you're just a bus boy! What the hell do you—"

"Ah, good, you finished the soup." Their boss had suddenly walked up behind them, walking over to the pot where the soup lay. He grabbed a small bowl and picked up the ladle, happily serving himself some soup, obviously in quite a good mood.

Immediately Yao released his death grip on Kiku, going over to his father quickly. "F-Father, I wouldn't—"

Yet it had been too late, Yao's father already beginning to hastily eat the soup, feeling quite famished. He paused, staring down at the empty bowl, then at the pot, then back at his two workers. "This is not the soup I had requested."

Yao swallowed heavily, nodding quietly. "I-I know, a-and I do not know what happened to it…"

His father raised an eyebrow in curiosity, making Kiku quickly speak up. "Yao had slammed the door and spices fell into the soup…I-I was only trying to fix it so Yao wouldn't get in trouble…"

Yao paused and raised an eyebrow at the male, the angry expression quickly leaving his face. Their boss raised both eyebrows, and smiled fondly. "This soup is fantastic, actually, have you made it before?"

"At the soup kitchen." He answered quietly, looking down, slightly ashamed of being so horribly poor yet working at a fine restaurant. "I work there when I'm not working here…I make all the food there…"

"So you cook?"

"I-I guess…" Kiku muttered, shuffling his feet and not meeting either of the two's eyes, feeling incredibly awkward.

The boss stared down at him, eyes completely emotionless, appearing to be debating what to do. A powerful, regal lion to a worthless, pathetic mouse. Finally he said, "I want Yao to teach you more on cooking. You have some potential, more than just a bus boy. You start your training tomorrow." And with that said, he walked away.

Of course taking another serving of soup as he left, leaving both Kiku and Yao stunned completely speechless.


	4. Chapter 4

Kiku raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he stood in the back, all of the workers now in the main dining room as their boss was describing some sort of event. Apparently it was the Lunar New Year soon (not that he celebrated such a Chinese holiday, he was a purebred Japanese man) and they were going to be having some sort of big celebration.

"Everyone will be working on these days." The boss announced, proceeding to announce a certain amount of days, the waiters getting excited at the thought of more customers. That merely meant more tips for them. The chefs didn't seem all too interested, Yao busy texting on his smart phone, possibly having gone through this enough times. Kiku gave a snort and raised an eyebrow at him. Didn't he have enough respect for his father to at least listen to him? Apparently not.

Kiku worked hard enough as it was as a bus boy, but he got very little pay. Even though Lunar New Year was going to be the busiest times of the years for the restaurant, he knew right away that he wouldn't be getting an increase in the money received. The bus boy didn't get any tips, the waiters and waitresses did. Maybe that was also the reason why most of the chefs didn't seem to care for this either. It was just going to be a regular day, with more money in their paycheck at the end of the night.

It was about twenty minutes long that the boss talked for, most of the employees growing bored. Eventually their boss had finished speaking, much to everyone's delight. Now they could get on with their lives…

"Wait." He stopped them suddenly as everyone began to stand and stretch out their legs, either standing or sitting for a long period of time. Kiku let out a soft groan, the stump of his leg hurting greatly from the uncomfortable prosthetic. "Since all of you are gathered here, it's the perfect opportunity to introduce you to our new chef, Ivan Braginski."

At this Kiku paused, raising an eyebrow and glancing towards the boss, a very tall and slightly intimidating man walking over to them, standing beside the boss. His amethyst eyes glistened with something Kiku could not recognize, what was it? Though, there was something there…what was it? It was bothering him to no end that he couldn't put his name on it. Even though he had never met Ivan, there was something present in his eyes that were so sickly familiar, it sent chills down Kiku's spine.

The large man - Ivan, apparently - chuckled darkly, looking around at his new employees. "Privyet." He greeted softly, Yao lifting his head and blinking in surprise at the sound of the Russian greeting. Kiku also blinked. A Russian was working in an Asian restaurant? Ivan bowed respectively towards them, knowing at least something about Asian culture. "It is my honor to be working with you all. We will have a great time working together, da?"

Everyone nodded stiffly, as if they were thinking the same things as Kiku was. Kiku watched the man as he continued to speak and describe a bit about himself, which no one seemed to care about. Though, Kiku didn't know what, but there was something about Ivan that just wasn't right… eerie feeling wafted off Ivan. It was so unsettling.

* * *

><p>Kiku panted as he slurped down another shot, leaning back in the seat with a grunt, chuckling giddily to himself. What number shot was he on? He lost count. Either way, drinking like a drunken idiot - which was the current state he was in - was refreshing for a change.<p>

Lazily, Kiku glanced over his shoulder, blinking stupidly at the other wasted men in the bar he was currently in. Brown almond-shaped eyes scoured the perimeter curiously, wondering what other workers he would meet here. Yao had offered to take everyone to the bar right after that meeting where they discussed the Lunar New Year and had been introduced to Ivan. It had been his treat to go to the bar and pay for everyone's drinks. Kiku wasn't exactly invited, but Yao was too busy singing a song he had never heard of while dancing on the table. So technically he was off the hook. For now, at least.

Kiku should have known that it would be a horrible idea to go to a bar with his colleagues after work. Especially with the option of not having to compensate for the amounts of alcohol consumed, it was an equation for disaster. It baffled Kiku at how there was a fairly nice bar right down the block from the restaurant.

Though, Kiku didn't feel the normal pain he felt at this time of day, the many shots he took in dulling and making his pain fade. For the time being, at least. Giving another laugh, he looked for the coworkers he loved oh-so-very much.

Aran and Linh were deeply engaged in attempting to chew on each other's faces in the booth nearby, moaning and groaning loudly. Kiku swore he saw a bra fly across the room from that direction. Making a face with distaste, he continued to look around the room.

Yong Soo had pinned the wallflower Xiang against the side of the booth, grinning like a complete idiot at him. Xiang, busy sipping his bottle of beer, scowled at his Korean acquaintance, attempting to turn away from him. Though the taller one wouldn't have that, smashing their lips together in a fiery kiss, Xiang surprisingly putting his beer on the table and kissing back without any hesitation. At seeing this, Kiku blinked slowly, his eyebrows disappearing behind his bangs. So they were gay as well? Or was it just the alcohol acting up?

Kiku blew air out of his nose quickly, reaching for the shot glass that seemed to never be empty. Taking it in with a loud gulp, he sighed loudly, slumping down against the counter of the bar. Men were laughing as they drank, finding flaws in science. At the moment, Kiku felt like such an outsider, which made him feel very awkward.

Another shot of alcohol soon flowed down his throat, the effects of the drink soon dulling his mind. Kiku blinked slowly, seeing everything spin slightly, his better judgment being clouded. He giggled again for no reason, watching everything with curious eyes. Feeling like one of those popular, rich young men for once, he stood up and sauntered over towards the stage where karaoke was going on. His prosthetic groaned and creaked, the cheap model straining.

Yao had migrated from the table to the makeshift stage, singing loudly into the microphone. A light blush dusted the chef's cheeks from alcohol and the stuffiness of the small bar, sweat beginning to drip down his brow. He had begun to do some very seductive dances involving his hips, making some of the girls swoon and whistle in delight.

Kiku, much to his own surprise, whistled the loudest at Yao, leaned against the stage, trying to give off that 'cool' appearance. What surprised him even more was when Yao acknowledged his presence by cheering loudly, "Honda! Kiku Honda!"

"Wang! Yao Wang!" Kiku cheered back, grinning stupidly at him. Yao stumbled back from dizziness due to alcohol consumption, his long hair sticking to his face and his neck from sweat, his hair tie long since abandoned. The old wood of the stage creaked and cracked under Yao's weight, though the other did not notice.

"Come up here and keep me company bus boy aru!" Yao singsonged, sauntering towards the Japanese man, onlookers hooting and cheering for them. Kiku was completely dumbstruck, even in his drunken, hazy state. Surprised that Yao had acknowledged his existence and had actually wanted to be near him. Didn't he remember the soup incident...?

"Hey! Didn't ya hear me~?" Yao purred, kneeling down beside the man and offering his hand, the scent of alcohol wafting off him. Kiku blinked slowly again, then grinned finally, grabbing Yao's hand, the man on the stage hoisting him up.

Kiku staggered slightly, once on the wooden stage. He looked at Yao, who was grinning at him. Eyes gazed over with a drunken haze, figure appearing a bit tipsy...Kiku still found himself being attracted to this rich, snobbish chef.

"Come on kid!" Yao laughed, dropping the microphone (which proceeded to make a loud, high pitched screech) and grabbing Kiku's hands. The other man blushed heavily as Yao began to sing at a loud volume, a drunken-written song, and dance with him.

To Kiku's surprise, he had begun to join him, both men laughing and singing and dancing as if there were no tomorrow. It had to be the drunken haze instructing and leading them on. It just had to be. This normally would never happen to him at all.

But Kiku did not know how to react when Yao grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him closer. So close their hearts beat simultaneously as one as their chests were crushed together. Their heats and breaths merged together to form one. Fingers fisted and clung to one another's clothes. Bodies molded together perfectly.

Yao's lips smashed against Kiku's own, causing time to stop for the Japanese man.

Why was God so cruel to him?


	5. Chapter 5

It was quite ironic in a way. At least, that's what Kiku believed, the way things turned out. That episode at the party was a sort of mechanism for release, and the Japanese bus boy felt relieved. Such a thing was unheard of to him - a way to get rid of tension and stress. Going on to drink was not the best way, but it had worked wonderfully to Kiku. He felt fresh. Stress had literally melted away from his body before he had the chance to explode like a volcano.

But the true irony in this experience was the passed out Chinese chef lying on the cot next to him. Snoring fairly loudly, Yao curled up tighter into a ball on Kiku's cot. The homeless shelter was fairly small, a few rows of cots, one cot for each resident. Of course, Kiku knew that the wealthy chef had never been in a place for paupers. Though, after the male had passed out and fallen off stage, he had nowhere else to go for the night. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise when he woke up?

Kiku sighed as he slipped on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, the shelter incredibly stuffy and humid, his cot nowhere near one of the sparsely located windows. He exhaled loudly, running his fingers through his short black hair, dirtied slightly from his excess sweating. Gently, he begun to massage the stump of his leg, unable to find a seat and properly remove the cheap prosthetic limb.

Even though he felt somewhat stress-free from his partying last night, that didn't mean that he felt 'wonderful'. A hangover seemed to be an added bonus, which had begun to make Kiku regret his choice of drinking so much for him to get drunk. Head pounding, he looked towards Yao, still curled up asleep on the cot.

The sleeping chef reminded him of a wealthy man's baby, in a sense. Curled up asleep, expensive looking clothing worn on his porcelain body…his expression was completely cherubic. Muscles were well defined on his lean form; dark brown hair framed his face and fell down his back and around his shoulders, even in his depths of sleep. Such a peaceful and pretty sight, Kiku thought dreamily.

'Snap out of it snap out of it snap out of it!' Kiku thought desperately as he frantically shook his head quickly, groaning and holding his head. Screw this damn hangover. Groaning, he sank down to the floor and sat there, continuing to watch Yao.

As to why Kiku had lugged Yao to his place at the shelter was a mystery to him. Anyone else could have taken him home. A bartender could have called Yao's father and the chef would have got the punishment of his short life. But none of that happened. Kiku had taken Yao home with him. Was it the passionate make out episode the two had on the stage in front of the entire bar that caused the gay worker to fall for the handsome chef? The answer was most definitely a yes.

Kiku gave another stifled groan as he massaged the stump, staring down at the blandly colored tiled floor. His nose twitched slightly at the smell of the soup wafting from the nearby building through the open windows. Hunger clawed at the inside of his stomach, fueled by the scent of food. What he would do for a bowl of-

"Aiyah..."

Kiku visibly startled at the sound of Yao groaning, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. The Japanese held his breath as Yao lifted his head to focus his eyes on the bus boy. Fury and anger flared immediately in golden eyes that were at first glazed over from a recent sleep. Kiku tensed, ready for the barrage of words that Yao was bound to send his way, which always seem to be given whenever they crossed paths...

"...your...leg..." the emotion that was in Yao's eye post to his awakening was now replaced by another one. What was that? Concern and worry? Such a thing that Kiku had rarely seen. And in this man? Even more surprising.

All Kiku could do could make a small "hmm" sound, his lips making something similar to an 'O' shape. Mentally he smacked himself to regain his bearings, blinking slowly at his guest, watching as he sat up carefully, the cot creaking underneath his weight. His eyes now fixated on the prosthetic leg, the contraption appearing more like a limb on a robot than something to assist a one-legged man.

Thoughts were running erratically through Kiku's head. He couldn't trust anyone. Not a single person. And what would this man conjure up with to say? Sneer at how he really was completely worthless? Or...or...

"Does it hurt-aru?" Yao whispered, interrupting Kiku's thoughts, looking curiously at the prosthetic. "...the...stump thingy...I mean..."

' 'Stump thingy?' ' Kiku thought with a raised eyebrow. Quite comical. He smirked and chuckled softly, a hand resting on the stump. "Yes, it hurts." he responded with a chuckle. "It always hurts, why do you ask?"

At this, Yao blushed and looked away, causing Kiku to giggle sheepishly again. It was very humorous to see the usual confident and almost angry chef embarrassed and nervous. Clipping back onyx hair behind his ear, he listened as Yao stumbled and tripped over his own words.

"...like...um...aiyah..." he sighed, finally beginning to glance and look around the room, finding out that he was no longer at the bar. Immediately his anger flared and flashed again, making Kiku step back slightly. "Where the fuck am I aru?"

"Homeless shelter, where I live." Kiku responded dully, not fazed by the man's fuming and violent reaction. It was something he got used to very quickly. Crossing his arms, he let Yao continue on with his barrage of words, the concern he previously showed was now completely gone. He tugged on his shirt a few times to get fresh air to contact that portion of sweaty, hot skin, virtually no cool air in the stuffy building.

"Get me out of this place at once!" Yao snapped angrily, a bit of fear tainting his voice. Nervously he pulled his knees close to his chest and staring at the floor fearfully. "…a mouse might run over my foot or something…!"

At this Kiku gave a fairly loud laugh, unusual for him. He laughed even louder when Yao huffed angrily like a spoiled child and glared at him. "Oi! I live here and I'm fine! There are no mice in this building!" he smirked when Yao parted his lips to shoot something back at him. "Or rats. Or any other vermin you can think of…especially no cockroaches…" he trembled at the thought of the vile, disgusting creatures.

Yao snorted, glancing away from Kiku, looking carefully at the floor for any signs of anything that would happily run near him. Kiku rolled his eyes at Yao, grumbling, "look, I really need some sleep, my head hurts, so if you won't mind—"

"…I'm just curious about something." Yao butted in, interrupting Kiku, standing up slowly. The man teetered and swayed, as if unable to keep his balance. It took him a few seconds to regain his bearings, arms waving around for something to grip onto. Kiku instantly thrust an arm out of instinct, allowing Yao to grab his arm and steady himself.

Kiku could feel the heat from the man's recent sleep wafting off of him and melting into his skin, leaving a radiating heat when Yao lifted his hand off of the Japanese man's forearm – hesitantly as well, Kiku caught. More sweat beaded off the man's forehead, and if it weren't from the uncirculated hot air in the room, it would be obvious that he was blushing. If he weren't so caught up with his own emotions and feelings, it would have been caught to his attention that Yao's cheeks were dusted a light pink, and not from the rise of temperature outside of his flesh.

Swallowing the fairly large lump in his throat (when did that get there?) Kiku looked to Yao. "W-What are you curious about Yao?" he asked, cursing himself for stuttering and stammering in front of this man.

"…how did you lose your leg?"


	6. Chapter 6

"How did you lose your leg?"

Kiku stared at Yao for a long time, as if not hearing what the chef had asked him. How heâ ¦lost his legâ ¦? As if to make sure that he really did only have one leg, he patted the prosthetic limb, blinking in surprise, as if this were the first time he had found out the news. But how he lost the limbâ ¦he had to search deep in his mind to find that informationâ ¦having blocked it for so longâ ¦

"Hey, are you gonna answer me or what?" Yao poked his temple, snorting angrily. "I asked you a question roboleg."

Kiku raised an eyebrow, and he couldn't help but smirk slightly at the new nickname. "What a creative name. Wonder where you got it from." he rolled his eyes, though his face fell as he remembered the topic they were talking about previously. "And...I would rather not talk about how I lost a limb."

"Well why not?" the snobbish little rich chef scoffed, crossing his arms. "I want to know. So tell me."

"No." Kiku answered simply, rubbing the stump of his leg, which had grown red and bruised from the inadequately made prosthetics "...please...not now..."

"Come on. Just tell me!" Yao snarled, beginning to get frustrated at an alarmingly quick response rate. "It's not a big deal!"

"Then I do not have to reveal that detail if I do not want to, since it is not a big deal, correct?" Kiku scowled, raising an eyebrow at the Chinese man. He grunted and looked away, embarrassed that his plan backfired on him. "That is a personal and private secret that I am not sharing."

"Well I want to know-aru!"

"No."

"Why won't you tell me? What was the horrible terrible thing that you don't want to share?"

Kiku found himself fuming at this point, learning how absolutely stubborn the man was. Or that he had absolutely no respect for personal secrets that did not want to be shared. Possibly both as well, he thought with a sigh. Either way, he found himself beginning to blow up in anger at him.

"Why won't I tell you?" he yelled, glaring at him, his nose nearly touching the chef's. "Why won't I tell you? Well, maybe I don't want to share the fact that I've been shot?"

There was a heavy silence in the room, Yao blinking at him, his fingers unconsciously curling around the lip of the cot, Kiku's own fingers trembling with an anger he was not familiar with. It took a few seconds to realize that he had revealed the secret he didn't want to announce, causing him to flinch and flounder slightly, turning away from Yao painfully. His stump hurt, and now there was a tightening in his chest from anxiety.

Kiku could feel Yao's gaze burning through him, making him whimper and tremble, poisonous tears stinging his brown eyes. He turned his back to the man, shivering violently from a cold, sinking feeling under his skin. The memories of the pain and agony that he had to endure made him let out a quiet whimper, painful thoughts plaguing his mind.

He verbally cried out when he felt someone laid a cool hand on his shoulder. Sniffling, he glanced over his shoulder at Yao, who was gently pulling him closer for a hug. The gay little bus boy had his eyes wide as he was seated in the man's lap (so out of character for him!) and arms were embracing him warmly.

"What happened?" he whispered quietly to him, nuzzling him gently, making him squirm and whimper. "Come on now. Tell me everything."

Kiku whined quietly, nuzzling his chest out of instinct. A small child going to their parent for comfort was what the behavior was comparable. He shivered. "…but…"

"Come on. I don't bite." He laughed weakly. "My bark's worse than my bite, but that's just how I was raised. I don't know how to act-aru." He sighed as he admitted that. "I've realized that, but I don't know how to change, you know?" quickly shaking his head, he chuckled, "but, it's about you, not me. Now talk to me. Come on."

Kiku gave another sniffle, looking up at him. "Why do you care for me? You seem to hate me at the restaurant."

"That's another story." Yao rolled his eyes. "Now share yours."

Kiku did not say anything for awhile, sniffling and leaning against the Chinese man's chest. "…I-I don't know where to start…" he began weakly.

"Start anywhere." Yao chuckled. "Didn't you come from Japan? Tell me about it aru."

Kiku swallowed dryly. Where should he begin…? He had to start somewhere.

"…I…was kidnapped by the yakuza. Then shot."

Yao rolled his eyes. "Aiyah. I knew you were shot, and who the hell were the yakuza?"

"Japanese mafia." Kiku groaned, shutting his eyes while resting his head on his shoulder. "When I was five there was a subway gas bombing. I was on that subway. The yakuza…they kidnapped me and killed most of the people on the subway. A few other boys my age were also held hostage. We were basically used as the personal servants, and I hated it. It was torturous; all of the things they demanded us to do were completely pointless. Some of the boys had been forced to have sex with the higher ups, luckily I had not had to go through that…" he gave a weak sniffle, wiping his eyes, Yao holding him tighter against his body. "…I had to witness it all though…"

"…I don't mean to be rude…" Yao whispered when Kiku paused. "…but how does this relate to you losing your leg? I mean, that's terrible and all, but—"

"They shot me." He bluntly said. "One got drunk; Sakuro, the leader got drunk one night and made me do ridiculous things, then ended up shooting me in the knee. It wasn't taken care of, and it was a dead limb. When I came to America, they had it removed and my adoptive parents gave me a prosthetic leg." He appeared very sad for a few seconds. "…of course…they then died a few weeks later in a house fire…leaving me homeless…"

"Slow down, slow down!" Yao cried, looking down at him with a pout. "So, you're saying you got kidnapped by the yakuza or whatever it's called?"

A nod.

"Then shot?"

A nod.

"And then you moved here to America? Had your leg removed and your parents dead?"

A small nod and a sniffle.

"I don't believe you."

Kiku looked at the man in horror. "…Yao…please…I beg of you to believe me…the things I saw in there is not related to a joking matter…please…I am begging of you to believe my story…you asked how I lost my leg, and I gave you the full story."

"You could have just said you were shot instead of the whole story."

"Now what's the point of that?" Kiku snorted. "I know you from working at the restaurant. You're a nosey person. You're going to ask me about the rest of my story, aren't you? So why waste time and breath? I decided to tell you everything, alright?"

Yao sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "…aiyah…this is a lot to take in…so you're homeless after your parent's house burned down…how old are you anyways?"

"It was my eighteenth birthday." Kiku responded quietly. "The day they died…now…I'm older…so…" he shook his head, refusing to admit his true age. That never did him any good. "…I was too old to be a foster kid…"

Yao pursed his lips and nodded. "I can't say I know what you're going through, because I don't. I'm rich, both of my parents spoiled me, and I'm next in line to own the biggest restaurant in the city. New York city too, that's an accomplishment on my father's part."

Kiku chuckled weakly at that, snuggling closer to the Asian male. "I am happy for you, you know."

"You're not half bad Kiku." Yao smirked resting his cheek on the crown of his head. "For a mere busboy."

At this Kiku laughed, beginning to feel a bit better. Getting all of that off of his chest was worthwhile. It felt good. He was surprised, considering that this was Yao that he had revealed his heart too and had cried in front of. How odd that he wasn't uncomfortable with the fact. A weight had lifted off of his shoulders either way. And the little gay Japanese male had a new respect for him.

"Come now, up. And no more tears." Yao gently wiped the tears away. "We'll be late for work." He smirked weakly. "I believe we are already. Now up, cutie."

Kiku blinked and turned red, not understanding the full meaning of the last word. But, knowing Yao, it was of no importance, and shouldn't be looked into. He merely nodded, standing up weakly to get ready for work.


End file.
